


The Patch

by sewohayami



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 19:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewohayami/pseuds/sewohayami
Summary: The powerful General Hux takes on a new adversary, a needle and thread.





	The Patch

**Author's Note:**

> Some ridiculousness I barfed up for my Kylux friend while she was working on a costume. We all know the pain.

In his quarters on Starkiller Base, Armitage Hux sat.

He knew the mission ahead would be tough, would test every inch of his mettle, and so he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead. No one must be allowed to question his loyalty to the First Order, no matter what. And thus, he would not sway from his duty.

On the gray desk by his sleeping quarters lay a small assortment of objects, standing out against the spotlessness. There was a spool of thread, scissors, and, perfectly aligned with the edge of the desk, a silver needle.

The shipment of newly manufactured First Order patches had arrived from Ryloth, and each recruit must present for roll call the next morning with the patch freshly displayed on their uniform. Perhaps he could use his authority to request some lowly sanitation officer to sew it on for him. But no, that would be shameful. A general must lead by example.

And so, with a sigh, General Hux removed his impeccably pressed coat and lay it on the bed. He unrolled what seemed like an appropriate amount of black thread, and sliced it neatly with the scissors. He took the needle, and with dexterous precision, he slid the thread into the hole. The end of the thread unraveled into two ends, one slipping past the outside of the needle.

Another sigh. He removed the thread and licked it with an expression of distaste, then jabbed it once more towards the hole in the needle. It bent back and forth and slid to the side, he twisted it with his fingertips and at last it went through. The first part of his task had been completed.

Aligning the patch on his sleeve just so, he slid the needle through the patch in a dark area where the thread would not show, then through the fabric below. He pulled the stitch taut. It was small, straight, and perfectly formed. As he pulled, the thread slid through the fabric completely. He had forgotten to tie a knot.

“Why do I always...”

He shook his head. Focus. An elementary mistake, but easy enough to fix. He tied a knot in the end of the thread and went to work again. One stitch, two stitch. The second was much longer than the first. Hux’s eye twitched. Some part of him told him to keep going, never mind, but deep down he knew that the stitch would burn into his arm like a firebrand with the mere knowledge that it was there and WRONG.

He un-threaded the needle and pulled the second stitch back through the fabric. With some more agitated jabbing, he re-threaded the needle, and replaced the second stitch. It was still not the same size as the first, but it was closer. It would have to be tolerated.

And so he continued slowly, carefully placing the point in the needle to make each stitch uniform with the last. Four stitches, five stitches. Aligning the needle-tip cautiously with where he hoped to place the next stitch, he pushed it through the fabric, and cursed as it went into his fingertip.

“Fuck.”

He withdrew his hand from the sleeve and saw a small bead of blood forming. Never mind, he thought, sucking his finger. It’s not a sewing project until first blood. Eyeing the coat like it may bite him, he gingerly placed his hand into the sleeve again. Once the enemy developed a taste for blood, he thought, they became even more dangerous. He completed five more stitches before stabbing himself again.

“Eat my dick,” he muttered.

He rounded the corner awkwardly ( _who decided to make this piece of shit hexagonal_ , he wondered), and promptly stabbed himself again. “Shit an Ewok,” he proclaimed.

The next two sides went surprisingly smoothly, and he began to develop somewhat of a confidence in the deft movements of his hands, fingers dodging nimbly as the needle flashed in and out of the fabric. Oh, there was the odd wonky stitch, but he doubted anyone was going to inspect the general’s uniform with a magnifying glass, and if they were, he could arrange a complimentary vacation to Hoth, one way. Never let it be said, he thought, that Armitage Hux backs down from a challenge. Why had he ever worried about this so much?

The next edge was the first of the two top edges, and so he slid his hand further up the sleeve to provide support. Oddly, it was a tight fit, he could feel stitches straining against his hand even though his entire arm should have been able to slide though easily. Come to think of it, why could he even feel stitches from inside a lined coat? He was sure that there weren’t…

The terrible truth slowly dawning on him, he wrenched the collar towards him and gazed down through the armpit into the sleeve. Sure enough, at some point he had begun sewing the patch through the lining, and into the lining of the other side of the sleeve, sealing it shut. And by the number of stitches visible, it was clear he had been doing this for quite some time.

“FUCKMONGLING COCKWEASLES”

he screeched in a cracking soprano, hurling the entire coat at the wall. At that instant, the doorway rushed open with a hiss, and Kylo Ren watched silently as the coat slid stiffly down the wall beside him and crumpled to the floor in a heap.

“Supreme Leader Snoke says...”

Kylo looked at the slumped coat again.

“… I’ll come back later.”

\---

In his quarters on Starkiller Base, Kylo Ren sat.

As his hands moved smoothly over the fabric, leaving a row of tiny and impeccably straight stitches (back-stitch, of course), he faintly hummed a tune from somewhere long ago.

Of course Kylo Ren knew how to sew. The Jedi didn’t just make their own weapons, they were charged with being able to make or repair anything if necessary, down to their own robes. He recalled his fifth summer, when Uncle Luke had sat beside him in a quiet place, teaching a teary-eyed Ben to sew up the hole in the knee of his trousers where he had taken a nasty fall. Usually, memories of the past filled Kylo with frustration and angst, but this one was oddly soothing. For the first time in recent memory, a calm came over him.

Oh, he’d never admit it out loud, but he liked sewing. Maybe later that night he’d offer to do Hux’s patch for him, and enjoy the enraged humiliation that would result. Maybe the general would even be frustrated enough to let him do it. Then, in the future, every time they were having a… heated disagreement, Kylo would reach out and smack him on the arm. It would of course be a coincidence that each one of these taps would fall on the patch and remind Hux of his shame.

A wicked grin spread across Kylo’s face as he continued sewing.

Truly, he was becoming one with the dark side.


End file.
